There's no crying in recovery!

Oh wait. There definitely would be crying, but even the slightest hiccup or the tiniest movement is a cause for pain. I can't imagine how crying might feel. I'll stick to taking deep breathes and reminding myself that this will pass. (And that's not even a BM joke but it could be!)

"Doctors can be a little crazy."

• Surgery day, colon resection at Big Barnes with Dr. MM

And thankfully, doctors can be lots of other things too. Like skillful, knowledgeable, and compassionate... but thank you nurse, for this lovely tidbit of information.

Well, storm Hektor was nice to St. Louis and it really didn't snow/ice last night. Staying at the hotel next to the hospital did allow for an extra hour of sleep this morning though. We got over to the hospital and checked in, and as the first case of the day for Dr. MM I was fast-tracked right up to the surgery floor and the prep area. Bonus.

There were questions to answer, some paperwork to sign, blood work to be drawn, a Dr. MM fly-by (still wearing his winter coat), an epidural put in, and just a little bit of waiting. I remember them explaining that I would be put in an almost vertical position for the surgery. All I could think about was that I hoped I would be well out of it by the time I was inverted. (And I was.)

The next thing I remember is being in a recovery room and soon after that, Hector and Laura came in to say hello. Dr. MM told them that things went well and as expected. Eventually I am moved to a room, not a private room though, and I have a roommate this first night (so Hector can't stay with me.) From what I overheard, rooms with two female patients can not have a male caregiver stay in the room overnight. He could sleep outside on a couch in the family room, but we decide that it would be better if he went home and got some sleep. Plus I am planning on trying to get some sleep too, in between these beeps and nurse visits.

Winter Storm Hektor

We decided to get a hotel room just in case Hektor causes trouble tonight.

Ready, set, and go

Today is Sunday fun day, surgery prep day. And this is how Stripes and I are both feeling about that.

The bad news is that the weather is about to get super bad. Some sort of icy, rain mix is going to start in a few hours and last through the night. A night that will be require me to get up early and be at the hospital at 7 a.m. Dear Mother Nature, please cooperate.

The results are in

I came across an e-mail tonight that reminded me that I can sign-up to an on-line portal for access to my tests and records under my new team of doctors. It takes only a second to figure out and then boom, there are my blood test results from today AND my MRI/CT results from yesterday. Right there. A click of a button away. Dinner is ready, but it is going to have to wait. Must. Read. Good news! Great news! No evidence of metastatic disease in the abdomen or chest or neck. And the colon tumor looks "much smaller". Take that cancer! You took my favorite number and turned it against me. I'm not happy with you. But today it appears is a victory for me!

Vampire-like

• Pre-op appointment at Big Barnes

NINE test tubes of blood, one urine sample, five signatures, and two-and-a-half hours later... pre-op is done!

Richard!

After a couple of Gilmore Girls free weeks, my slightly early arrival home this afternoon has led to some TV watching and 3 episodes of GG so far. Just a week ago, the actor who played Richard Gilmore passed away of brain cancer. As I was telling one of my sisters today, it feels like cancer is just everywhere since my diagnosis. I'm not naive enough to think it wasn't everywhere before my diagnosis but man, it's everywhere.

Maroon 5

• CT/MRI tests

In the summer of 2013 I had a couple of MRIs, of my neck and my back, during the process of trying to diagnose some numbness I was having on my left side, in my arm and leg. Originally I self-diagnosed myself with a back problem that was maybe pinching something, partially due to a friend having the same problem and partially due to WebMD. After a bunch of testing and an uneventful meeting with an MS specialist/neurologist, the numbness seemed to go away and that was that. BUT, long story long, the MRI machine was freaky! It is so loud, it sounds like you are laying inside a barrel that is being hit with a hammer or something. I thought I was prepared but I... was... not. During my first one, the music in the head set came on SO LOUD and I was already in the machine and I opened my eyes... and queue my freak out! I squeezed the emergency trigger in my hand and the tech rolled me back out. I'm still not sure how she convinced me to go back in.

And those memories came flooding back to me today as they rolled me into the machine, head phones on (at a quiet level as requested), all wrapped up, and freaking out! The test took about an hour I guess and I spent it imagining myself on a beach, playing soccer, laying in bed watching TV, and in between the loud noises and the announcements to hold my breathe, I spent it singing along (silently) to the music playing in the head phones. I definitely remember some Maroon 5.

Now I wait. The pictures (from the MRI and also from a CT that I had today) were sent to the radiologist for review and then the results will be sent to Dr. T, Dr. MM, and most importantly Dr. C. When I met with him in the beginning of December, he didn't anticipate being able to do anything during my surgery, but today's tests will confirm that, or possibly suggest something to be done. I'm scared to think about what's been going on inside this body of mine during the past month since chemo was stopped, but I'm about to find out.

Neuropathy

The neuropathy in my hands and feet is no joke. It's been six weeks since my last dose of Oxaliplatin and the neuropathy did seem to subside for a bit, but it's baaaaaack. And it's no fun.

Inspiration

I can't imagine being in the public spotlight going through all of this. I've read the above quote from Stuart Scott probably 20 times today. Live. Fight like hell. I'm on it Stuart!